Feels Like Home
by xxeverlastinglovexx
Summary: Charlie is a verbally aggressive, abusive father who makes Bella's life hell. After a particularly violent argument, Bella flees and seeks refuge in the deserted Cullen Mansion. This is the beginning of a new life for her. Lemons in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. If I did, this would just be a good 'ol fic, minus the fan. And be insanely rich. And have access to R-Pattz...*sigh***

**This story contains adult themes and violence. I don't want to upset anybody, so PM me if you have any concerns, and I'll clear them up!**

**Finally, this is un-betaed, so if my love of the comma annoys you, please don't throw me to the wolves (unless Jacob is one of them, in which case I'd probably jump).**

**Enjoy!**

Another hysterical sob rattled through my aching chest as Charlie's words swirled around me. My eyes stung as fresh tears squeezed their way through, and I clutched the steering wheel even tighter in my hands, my knuckles turning white with the strain.

_"You're useless. Useless, do you hear me? Just like your mother. Well, I won't make the same mistake twice. I let her get away from me. But I won't let you. You're mine. Forever..."_

I choked on the moan which threatened to escape when I thought of his words. He was right. Mom had managed to escape him, but she had abandoned me in the process. I was alone, with him, forever.

The thought of spending the rest of my life in Forks stuck with Charlie, in his dank house with his awful temper was too much, and my eyes blurred so much that the road in front of me became nothing more than a jumble of shapes and colours. That, coupled with the torrential rain which was falling from the inky black sky, was enough to render me almost completely blind. 'Damn you Forks, and your stupid fucking weather' I mumbled, wincing at the sound of my croaky voice. My throat was raw, I noticed. It hurt.

I drove on, puffy eyes squinting against the downpour. My windscreen wipers never seemed to move fast enough, although this had never really bothered me. Just one more thing that endeared the ancient red beast I drove to me. Tonight, this fact just served to remind me how crap everything in my life was. _Everything._ Images swirled inside my head as I fought for something positive to clutch onto. _Anything. _The squeal of a car horn woke me from my reverie, and lights reflected in my rear view mirror. I was doing twenty miles an hour, afraid to go any faster in my current hysterical state, and the person behind me obviously had somewhere to be.

Sighing, I decided to pull in and let them pass. I manoeuvred my huge, old red truck into the space which was left outside the old Cullen mansion. The driver of the car behind me sped past me, flashing his lights in gratitude. I smile infinitesimally to myself, turning towards the building beside me. The Cullen Place. It was the grandest house in the whole of Forks, over a hundred years old and beautiful. It was, however, completely deserted. Nobody had lived in it in decades, and the once beautiful exterior had started to crumble around the edges, making it look worn and sad. To me, however, it just made it even more beautiful. It just needed some love to make it come alive, to let it thrive. Just like me.

I smiled to myself as I thought of my youth, before Charlie had gotten so bad that my Mom had to flee. Alice and I had always sworn that we were going to buy that mansion and live in it together. Best friends forever, and all that. I would write novel after novel in the huge library, inspired by epic love stories and the smell of old books, and Alice would design clothes from her attic studio. Naturally, we would both be rich beyond our wildest dreams, and each have a handsome, selfless and supportive husband to share everything with. As we had gotten older, and the real world had started to impose on our childish fantasies, we were informed that the house still belonged to somebody else. The ancestors of the Cullen's, who lived on the far side of the country, held the deeds, and would never sell. They preferred to let an old house crumble and die instead, I thought bitterly.

A sharp gust of wind around my truck brought me back to the present with a start. 'What am I going to do?' I mumbled to myself. I sure as hell couldn't go home tonight. When I had left Charlie he had been in a murderous rage, and the bottle of whiskey on the table in front of him was crying out to soothe him. I might be able to sneak in if he had passed out, but if he hadn't...I shuddered at the thought, and rubbed my wrist reflexively, noting the sore spots and bruises which were already starting to appear.

_"That's it; I don't have to listen to this anymore". I startled myself with my sudden bravery, but decided to roll with it anyway. I grabbed my backpack from the chair beside me, and made to turn and leave. Charlie caught me by my wrist, yanking hard, and I turned back to face him. And in that moment, I was terrified. His eyes were wide with rage, his teeth clenched, and a tiny drop of spittle was stuck in the corner of his mouth. In this instant, there was no trace of the man I had once called Daddy; that I had once looked up to and loved. Now he was just a monster. A demon, sent from my own personal hell."Charlie, please, you're hurting me", I whispered, and he dropped his hand, a fleeting expression of shock crossing his face before it was replaced again with rage. And I left... _

I couldn't even stay at Alice's tonight. She was down South, visiting her Aunt before school got back together next Monday. Alice was my best, and only, friend in the whole world. She was tiny and beautiful, stylish and confident. She was my exact opposite in every way, loving attention and friends with everybody. However, she was more than that. She was the only one who had stuck by me when my Mom left, and who even attempted to protect me when Charlie was in one of his moods. Something about Alice calmed Charlie sometimes. Deep down, I knew what. Alice was like my mother, in personality if not in looks. The few memories I have of the woman who gave birth to me are happy ones, full of her infectious laughter and exuberance. Maybe that was why I found Alice so easy to talk to, to confide in and to rely on. She reminded me of good times and happiness, she felt like family. Maybe that's why I wished, every single day that Alice was my sister. If God had been more loving toward me, I would have been Alice's sister, and we really would have been living together in a house like the Cullen mansion.

The Cullen Mansion? A sudden idea struck me. Could I possibly stay there for the night? It was never locked, that much was common knowledge, but it never had need to be. Nobody ever went inside. The mansion was haunted. I had heard many stories over the years, mostly involving teenage dares and tricks played on others, in which people were terrified by strange noises or things being thrown at them as they entered. Mike Newton swore that he saw some sort of a ghost there years ago. I snorted as I remembered him recalling the story to me. 'I swear Bella, he was tall, and moved so fast. He looked so dangerous that I turned and ran, but by the time I got to the door, he had disappeared...' Mike Newton was an ass. However, I had to admit, it wasn't like him to admit to being scared, he was usually the hard-man in situations like this. But after his encounter with the 'ghost' he was truly terrified. Perhaps I should be too? But, as I turned to look at the huge house, with darkness filling it's every window, I couldn't find it in me to be scared. Instead, I felt an unmistakable tug towards the mansion. To me, it looked like home.

That was it, the decision was made. I turned the key in the ignition, jumping as the truck roared into life again. I wiped the old tears from my eyes with the sleeve of my blue sweater, and began to turn into the driveway of the old house. I decided to leave my truck behind the trees to the side of the building. I really couldn't risk Charlie, or anybody else seeing it parked outside. After all, I was in essence breaking and entering. I giggled as I jumped from the truck, my hair whipping madly around my face, as I thought of myself being arrested. Being brought in to face the local Chief of Police. My father. I snorted. If only people knew.

I turned to make sure that the truck was completely hidden from the road. I couldn't bear if anything happened to it. It had never given me a moment's worry in my year of driving it. Come rain, hail or shine, I knew it would always get me to where I needed to be. More than this, however, though I hated to admit it, even to myself, it was my last tie with my mother. It had been her truck. She had hated to drive around in the cruiser, embarrassed by all of the looks that it attracted. Instead, she had bought this from somebody down on the reservation. If I closed my eyes, I could still picture her sitting behind the wheel, her face beaming, her hair shining in the sun, revealing shades of red that were invisible otherwise. My hair did the same thing in the sun. Her hands had once gripped the same steering wheel, her foot had once pressed the same pedals, her eyes had once checked the same mirrors. I like the way this knowledge made me feel. Connected to her, no matter how minutely.

After being satisfied that the truck was hidden enough from sight to protect me, I hastily made my way around to the front of the house. The rain had stopped now, and the wind was blowing the puffy little clouds around the sky, allowing the light from the moon to burst through every now and again. I climbed the porch steps, and the door stood in front of me, paint peeling and yellow with age. I took a deep breath, and raised my hand, reaching for the ornate door handle. But, before I could make contact with the cool metal, there was a loud creak, and the door swung open. I was suddenly faced with the large, dark hallway inside. I braced myself, willing my feet to move me forwards, and silently rejoicing when they did. Enveloped in the eerie silence inside, I closed the door behind me.

**Eek! What happens next? Reviewers get a teaser...;)**

**See y'all next week!x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. If I did, I would have my very own mansion to kick back in, instead of having to write about one for myself.**

**Thanks to everybody who put this story on alert, and to my two reviewers..:) Also, thanks to the lurkers who have been reading it. Leave a review. I promise I don't bite. Also, reviewers get a teaser...**

**Again, un-betaed, so anything incorrect you see is all my doing, so if it annoys you, tell me!**

**Finally, enjoy!**

Nothing could have prepared me for the beauty of the entrance hall. Even in the darkness, with only the light from the moon outside leaking through the windows, it was breathtaking. The floors were made with some dark wood, still retaining a degree of shine, even after all these years of sitting unused. A huge staircase ascended to the upper floor, giving an air of grandeur to the seemingly dilapidated house. 'Wow' I breathed, almost afraid to speak aloud and interrupt the quiet beauty that surrounded me. Charlie's home was not at all like this. Small and pokey, it held none of the magnificence of this house. Even if it had, I would never feel like this in it. Safe.

It surprised me just how comfortable I felt as I moved silently through the lower floor. The drawing room was dust covered and empty, housing only a grand piano, hidden partially by a discoloured sheet. I ran my fingers wistfully over the ivory keys, jumping slightly at the sound that they made. My mother had played, and the way that her face glowed as she filled the room with music was one of the only happy memories I had. I shook my head, denying myself the opportunity to think like this, in case the tears began again. I had cried enough tonight.

Each of the rooms took it in turns to dazzle me. The kitchen took up all of the back of the house, facing out onto the river which wound its way across the land behind. The stove was huge and nestled into a magnificent rounded fireplace, and my heart filled with longing to see a fire burning in it, to feel heat radiating through the cold and dark. I imagined cooking on that stove. I loved to cook. Being left to fend for yourself at a young age is hard, and pop-tarts and cereal can get pretty boring. Years of practice in my miniscule kitchen meant that cooking was one of the few talents that I had. Some of my meals had even been known to placate Charlie. Almost.

A living room of sorts stood at the opposite side of the drawing room, across the hall. The furniture in here was sparse, with only some tables dotted around, and one sofa, covered in a dustsheet. I moved through it slowly, dragging my fingertips across the tabletops, noticing the shiny lines they left on the dull wood. As I moved, the clouds outside parted, allowing more of the light from the full moon to enter the room and glint off the selection of frames covering one of the walls. There must have been dozens of them, and I suddenly wanted nothing more than to examine their contents, to see the people who had once called this magical place 'home'. My steps increased in pace, and my breathing quickened as an unbelievably strong impulse overtook me, pulling and tugging me towards the pictures. I reached them and stopped, greedily trying to drink in all the images at once before I examined them in isolation.

A large group photograph was the central point of the wall, obviously the area from which all of the other pictures were arranged around. It was a posed image, full of unsmiling faces, all staring hauntingly back at me from their dusty frame. However, what struck me most was that, despite the solemn demeanour of everybody, they were still breathtakingly, awe-inspiringly beautiful. The central figure was a man, who I could see was blond, even with the sepia tint that the picture still held. Although he looked young, no older than thirty, he seemed wise beyond his years, a sort of patriarch of this strange family. His hand rested on the shoulder of a gorgeous woman, younger than he was, but obviously his wife. Her hair was dark, falling in soft waves around her round face. I felt a lump rise in my throat as I took in her resemblance to my mother. I shook my head. I was letting myself get bogged down again. Trying to distract myself, I looked at the three figures standing behind the couple. A girl, flanked by two men. I frowned, struggling to find anything in their appearance that they shared, trying to figure out exactly how they were tied together. Sister and brothers? No, they couldn't be, they looked nothing alike. The girl reminded me of an old Hollywood star, with her light hair falling in ringlets, and her full lips beautiful even in a defiant pout. Standing to her left was a huge man, double her width, with close cropped dark hair. If I looked closer, I could almost see what I thought were dimples nestled in his plump face. He looked so dangerous, massive and muscular, but something in his face was childlike and innocent. Gentle. Still pondering this, I flickered my eyes to the last face in the photograph, and my breath caught in my throat. He was angelic, godlike, not belonging to this earth. My fingers raised to trace his profile, almost a magnetic attraction. He was tall and lanky, a good head higher than the man beside him, with a kind of a slouch to his posture. While his dicky-bow was tied just as tightly as his peer's, and his expression just as solemn, he looked more relaxed than everybody else. Perhaps it was the way that he had stuck his strong jaw out, giving him that nonchalant air that I could never exude? Or the way that he kept his eyes half-closed, almost lazily. Or was it the unruly shook of hair that stood at angles from his beautiful head, a sharp contrast to his family's neat do's? It was his hair, I decided, definitely his hair. What colour was it? It was nowhere near as light as the beautiful woman's, and was several shades lighter than the giant. I found myself frustrated at the mottled tones of the picture, wanting more than anything to know what shade coloured his unruly locks.

I explored the rest of the pictures, disappointed to find him in only two more, one with the beautiful blonde movie star, and the other a single portrait of his gorgeous face. He was more beautiful close up, his hair unruly and wild, with his narrow lips set in a firm line. His eyes gazed out at me, framed by sets of thick lashes. The same frustration wrenched my gut as I gazed on him, desperate to know what colour those eyes were. I prised the picture gently from the wall, unhooking it from the place where it had obviously hung for decades. The oval white patch that the picture revealed was a testament to this. I tucked the picture under my arm, keeping it nestled there safely, then turned and made my way towards the staircase.

Upstairs was much the same as downstairs; old fashioned brilliance with a dilapidated edge. I opened door after door, each leading into rooms only furnished with beds and cobwebs. Another door opened into an old bathroom; the toilet had a pull chain like Grandma Swan's used to have, and the bath was one of those heavy enamel affairs with huge claw –like feet. I imagined what it would be like having a bath in a tub the size of a small boat, and giggled at how exited the prospect would make Alice. With her pixie-like frame, she could nearly swim laps in the thing. Still chuckling, I opened the final door, and found a kind of paradise on the other side.

A huge wrought iron bed took pride of place in the centre of the room, yet it was still dwarfed by the sheer scale of the place. French doors faced me, leading onto some sort of balcony; I could see myself reflected in the panes of glass. My eyes were puffy and my hair was dishevelled from being whipped around in the wind earlier. I giggled at how ridiculous I looked, my face shiny with tears and the photograph of a long-dead angel under my arm. There was a bookshelf in the corner, and I was drawn to it, eager to gain another insight into these people's lives. All classics, neatly arranged, their hardback spines exposing their names. Some were more worn than others, with rips and tears, presenting themselves as those who were most loved. I couldn't help but want to touch them, raising my hand and reaching slowly to stroke them where they sat. Just as my fingers made contact with the cool leather of their covers, the door creaked behind me and I whipped around, startled. Nothing. The door shook gently, mocking me for my reaction. I giggled, smiling at the fact that the breeze rocking the door had managed to frighten me, after all I had been through tonight.

Yawning, I trod gently towards the bed. The argument and ensuing tears had left my exhausted, and the heavy gold comforter that was draped over the mattress was calling to me now. I pushed back the guilt that came with sleeping in someone else's bed without asking them, and curled up on my side. Heaven. I took the picture from under my arm, and studied it one last time. 'I wonder whose room this was, Handsome' I whispered to it, and stood it on the table next to the bed, facing me. Part of me was ashamed for invading a house without the family's permission, but with him looking at me, I felt like perhaps he knew. Another part of me wanted his beautiful face to be the last thing that I saw tonight, and the first thing that I saw in the morning. I really was pathetic.

As I succumbed to the soft clutches of sleep, something occurred to me, slipping through my weary brain. Recalling the glossy ridges that my fingers had left in the furniture over the house told me that it was abandoned. This room however, the very room that I was using to escape the outside world in, was clean. Spotless. Dust-free. As if in use everyday. I would have to find out who. A hysterical giggle escaped my lips, as I saw how paranoid I was being. This place was deserted.

I snuggled in to slumber, burrowing further into the warm spot my body had created in the vast bed, allowing my eyelids to droop and my breathing to deepen. However, something stuck out in my mind the following morning, something which confused and intrigued me. As I lay in those precious moments between reality and dreams, I swore I saw a flash of bronze across the room, and for a second, the beautiful face of the man in the photograph, his bronze eyes boring into my brown ones.

**Hmmm...A clean room and a flash of bronze? I wonder...**

**Next week peeps!x**


	3. Chapter 3

**EEK! RL has been kind of full on lately, so I haven't been able to spend as much time as I'd like to on this. :(**

**However, this Chapter is a teensy weensy bit longer than the previous two, so maybe that makes up for it? No? Sorry.**

**As always, _Twilight_ doesn't belong to me. If it did, I'd have already seen Breaking Dawn by now.**

***sigh***

The ringing of my cell phone woke me the following morning. "Alice?" I sounded hoarse; my throat was raw from my crying fit the previous evening, and my eyes were puffy as I looked around the strange room. After I had managed to quell the panic in my chest that comes with waking up in unfamiliar surroundings, I was finally able to tune into the babble that was currently pouring from the device I held to my ear. _"...and he's so tall Bella, like, I know that everybody looks tall when they stand next to me..."_ She giggled, and I smiled despite myself, completely clueless as to who she was talking about _"...but he really is giant. And his hair is so floppy and cute, and his accent...Damn, his accent..."_ "Alice", I interrupted, wiping away the sleep that still resided in my eyes following a night of fitful slumber, full of golden eyes and odd dreams, "who in God's name are you talking about?" _"Jasper"_ she whined back at me, annoyed by my complete inability to pay attention to her this morning. I could almost hear her pout down the phone line. _"Only the most amazing boy on the face of the earth who I am completely and utterly falling for. I mean...I've known him since I started going to visit Auntie Jane, but this time...it's different Bella. I think I love him."_ Her voice quietened at the end of her sentence, and my eyebrows furrowed together. I had known Alice almost all my life; she was like a sister to me. As far as I was concerned, she was the only real family I had. And I knew what this tone of voice meant. She was afraid to tell me about Jasper, afraid of how I might react. And I was ashamed for it. "Alice, that's...great. Really, really great." I groaned inwardly at myself, wishing that I had a better vocabulary so I could convey my happiness for Alice_. "Oh Bella, I knew you'd pleased for me, I was just so scared to tell you because...you know..."_ She coughed awkwardly, her silences telling me much more than her words ever could. More guilt invaded my system and my stomach twisted uncomfortably. Was I so self-centred and..._delicate..._ that my own best friend felt bad about her own happiness? Evidently, yes. _"Well"_ she resumed, _"how's everything back in good old Forks? Are you ok? Has everything been...alright...since I left?"_ I flinched at the hidden meaning behind her seemingly innocent question. Typical Alice. Even in a different State, and caught in the first throes of new love with this Jasper guy, she still worried about poor old me, stuck at home with Charlie. "Ali, everything is fine! Quit worrying about me!" _"That's good!"_ I could practically hear the relief in her voice. _"Well, My flight is leaving early tomorrow morning, so I should see you tomorrow night? Maybe you can stay at mine?"_ "Mmm" I mumbled, unwilling to commit to that. Deep down I already knew where I would be staying tomorrow night. I grasped the comforter in my hand, fisting it tightly. "Well Ali, I gotta go now. Can't wait to see you and hear more about Jasper." _"And I can't wait to tell you more Bells. See you tomorrow. Kisses!"_ And then she was gone, leaving me sitting on a stranger's bed and staring at my handset.

Sighing, I stretched my arms above my head, feeling the knots that had built up in my muscles overnight relax and loosen out. The bed had been comfortable, much more comfortable than I was used to, and it would take me a little while to get accustomed to. I smiled to myself. Get accustomed to. Obviously I was planning on spending more time in it. Looking around, I marvelled at the sight around me. The room really was beautiful, lit by the early morning sunlight flooding through the large French doors. It made the gold in the comforter sparkle, which contrasted deliciously with the inky-blackness of the wrought iron bed-frame. The bookcase still took pride of place in the corner, it's dark timber the perfect match to the locker which stood beside the bed, the very same locker which held the photograph of the angel. I l again studied the beauty who had watched over me while I slept, as he sat, forever perched in his frame. He was even more breath-taking by daylight. His eyes stared right through me, giving me the strangest feeling in my chest, and though I hated to admit it, a warmth between my legs which was far from uncomfortable. Although I'd experienced the same tingles from reading some of Grandma Swan's old trashy novels, which my father kept in a box in the hall cupboard with some more of her things, or watching certain scenes in films, but this was different. Intense."And I don't even know your name" I giggled at him, jumping from the king-size paradise.

I skipped down the hall to the where I remembered the bathroom to be, determined to find out whether the amenities in the old house worked. The faint trickle of water that ran from the ornate gold tap as I turned it surprised me. I watched as it grew stronger, steadily turning from a drip to a tiny waterfall of liquid. I splashed it over my face, revelling in the comfort it brought to my puffy and tender face. Turning slowly to the toilet, I bit my lip and frowned, afraid to put my hand out and pull the chain. Flooding the Cullen mansion was a risk that I didn't feel brave enough to take right now. Not only would Charlie have me in for breaking and entering, but destruction of property too? No thanks. I snorted again at the thought. Charlie. A quick glance at my watch attested the fact that he would be at work, and that I probably should get home. I still had some homework to catch up on before school started, and I really wanted it out of the way before Alice got back. _"And you want to pack some things for tonight. To stay here," _I thought guiltily. Back in the bedroom, I put my cell back in my pocket and turned to go. After a moment's hesitation, I left my tousle-haired God where he was, sitting on the locker. I knew I really should hang him back where I had found him, but I also knew that if I did, I would have to take him from the wall to keep me company again later, and really, what was the point in that? "See ya later!" I giggled at him. _Seriously, speaking to a picture? That's it, I'm clinically insane. _

Outside, I made sure that the road outside the mansion was deserted before I manoeuvred my giant rusting truck from behind the trees, in hopes of avoiding being seen. The last thing I needed was Mrs. Mallory or any of her friends spotting me here. If they did, it'd be all over Forks by this evening, and Charlie would surely hear it in the diner. Or the store. Not that he did much shopping for anything but whiskey. I had learned the hard way to take whatever money I could from him when he got his wage check, and hide it, or it wouldn't be long before all that was left in the kitchen was empty bottles and pizza boxes. It had been soul destroying trying to scrounge coins for milk and bread in his jacket pockets when he was passed out, and I had decided that I would never have to make myself do it again. The money that I managed to glean from his wages when I could, coupled with my own earnings from my weekend shifts at Newton's Olympic Outfitters, was enough to keep us in food and for me to attempt to save for college. Or at least for my own place. The moment I turned eighteen, I was so out of here.

It was that thought that offered me some comfort, and kept me sane throughout the day as I worked to finish my English paper, and looked over the algebra chapter that I had been having trouble with before school broke up. It was that thought that kept me sane as I prepared the lasagne for dinner that evening, eating my own portion alone in our small kitchen, staring at the cupboards my mother had painted yellow all those years ago. At the time, the colour had meant so much. Sunshine. Life. Happiness. Now it just reminded me of the failure of our family, and the emptiness that was left by my mother leaving. Such a bright colour, completely at odds with the darkness within the house. I plated up the rest of the lasagne and put it in the microwave for Charlie, and then made my way to my room.

Upstairs, I lay out on my bed, attempting to get comfortable. When I failed at that, I forced myself to at least be still, and let my mind wander to the deserted house across town. The kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom...that's where I wanted to be right now. Not here. That house; the house where I had spent just one night, suddenly seemed more like home than the place I had grown up in. I was swiftly overtaken with a yearning to curl up on the gold comforter again. I hesitated a second, until I could no longer ignore the pull in my stomach. My mind was made up. I was leaving. Jumping from my small mattress, I grabbed my rucksack from it's spot beside my door and began throwing things in it. My pyjamas, clean socks, a hair tie and brush. I continued to the bathroom, grasping my toothbrush and paste in one hand, as I pushed soap, a towel and the box of tissues into my bag with the other. Spurred on with excitement, I ran quickly downstairs, almost tripping in my haste to descend. I halted for a minute, unsure of what to take next. There had been light switches on the walls in the house, but they were the old type round quaint ones, and I hadn't flicked one. The wiring in the house was bound to be ancient, and the more I pondered it, the more I was afraid to attempt to use it. Setting fire to the mansion would definitely be worse than flooding it, no question about that. With this in mind, I made my way to the hall closet, pulled the cord to turn on the light, and began to search through the junk for the box I really wanted. And moments later, I had it. It was dusty, and hadn't been opened for years, but I was never so happy to see something in my life. I flipped open the top of it, and delved inside, searching for what I needed. The box was really another reminder of our failed family, filled with the supplies we had used for camping holidays in the early years of my childhood. The happy years. I shook my head. I was going to use some of the items now. Maybe the happy years were coming around again?

Five minutes later, I was armed with candles, a torch, matches, an oil lamp, a bottle of water and some cookies for later, if I was hungry. I loaded the truck with them, and threw my rucksack in after, before heading back in the house to lock up. The message pad still hung on the fridge in the kitchen , and I raised the pen that hung from it to write my note to Charlie. _"Dad" _I began, _"staying at Alice's for the night." _He had been so inebriated every evening lately that he had no idea she was out of town, so I knew I was safe in that lie. _"Dinner is in the microwave; just heat it up_." I paused then, and captured my bottom lip between my teeth, unsure of what to say next. Taking a deep breath, I quickly scrawled the next line. _"Love you. Bella." _And with that, I turned and left, making sure to lock the door on the way out.

Fifteen minutes later, I found myself hidden behind the trees at the Cullen mansion, unloading my supplies from my truck. Some clever handling on my part meant that I was able to manage it all in one go, and I slipped through the twilight and in the front door. I couldn't strangle the hysterical giggle that escaped my lips as I rearranged the items in my hand and turned on the torch. It was cloudier this evening, the sky full of huge balls of dirty cotton-wool clouds, and only a faint grey-tinged light entered the house. I made my way upstairs, heading straight for the room I had slept in last night. I shone the torch on the picture beside the bed. "I'm home" I whispered at him, as I lowered the torch and began lighting candles with shaking hands. Soon the room was filled with a soft glow, which only succeeded in making the place look more peaceful. I was still afraid to light the lamp, on the off chance that somebody noticed it from outside. That was unlikely though, seeing as this room was to the rear of the house. Still, I took the torch with me to the bathroom, where I changed into my pyjamas and washed my face with the soap I had brought. I tiptoed back to the room, arranging my things carefully in the corner. _Just in case I have to make a quick getaway, _I thought wryly. My cell was already tucked safely under one of the pillows. I turned to face the bookshelf, debating for a minute whether it would be alright to read one. The debate was easily silenced when I saw _Romeo and Juliet _shining up at me in gold-lettering, and I pulled it with me, curling up underneath the comforter and loosing myself in the familiar words.

However, the familiarity only served to make it harder to evade sleep. After gorging myself on love-struck Romeo's words of heartbreak, I felt my eye-lids begin to droop, and decided to blow out the flickering lights surrounding me and give myself over to sleep. And that I did, curling warm and content into the huge soft mattress, allowing myself to enter the realm of dreams.

And what a dream I had. Darkness surrounded me on all sides, black, empty nothingness. Except I knew it wasn't empty. As my eyes focused, I was able to make out a figure stood in front of me. And suddenly, hundreds of flickering candles surrounded me, and what I saw took my breath away. It was _him._ Devastatingly handsome as ever, he was still in his sepia tones, but he was real. He was here. I felt my smile spread across my face, and an atmosphere of safety surrounded me completely. However, the closer I looked at him, the more I realised the there was something wrong. His face was etched with worry, making him look much older that his years. and he was speaking quickly in low, dulcet tones. I strained to hear him, wanting nothing more than to understand what had hurt him so. And, after a moment, I was able to take it in. He was speaking Romeo's words, in a voice so pained it brought tears to my eyes. He was heart-broken. I reached out my hand to comfort him, but he moved further away. I tried again, but again, nothing. My brows furrowed in anxiety and confusion. It was cold now, and I was worried. The breeze brushed me gently, and I shivered. It tickled me again, and I shuddered once more. I looked around to see where the light wind was coming from, and when I turned again, he was gone. "No!" I cried, spinning swiftly on the spot. I was alone. I didn't wasn't to be alone. I wanted _him _with me. I opened my mouth to call again. "Come back!"

And all at once I was awake and staring into the most beautiful set of golden eyes that I had ever seen.

**Nomnomnom...Golden Eyes Indeed!**

**See y'all soon...reviewers get a teaser...**

**xxelxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**OK, serious apologies in order! I got hit with the worst case of writer's block EVER! Well, maybe not ever, but it was pretty damn severe! Anyhow, finally got this chapter written, and it turned out to be pretty long, so I split it! I'm not gonna promise that the next chapter will be up soon, in case I decide to rewrite the entire thing, but I will say that it won't take as long as this one to post! And I know I promised teasers for people, but considering that I'm only just happy with this chapter, I think you'd prefer if I just posted the chapter instead! Again, no beta reader, so all the incorrect comma placements are mine! However, if you'd like to help fix them, drop me a line...;)**

**I think it's safe to say that I don't own these characters, I just like to borrow them and through them into a seemingly deserted house to do my dirty work. Thanks, SM!**

**Oh, and this chapter is an EPOV...creepy little lurker that he is! I love him though!:)**

EPOV:

The crunch of tyres on gravel woke me from my reverie, interrupting the silence that I had attempted to impose on myself for the evening. A pang of annoyance sped through me; silence was something that I rarely experienced. My _gift _made sure of that. At every moment of every day, I shared my own head with those around me. Their thoughts were my thoughts, their desires, needs and wants mine too. My body was a slave to their emotions, and it exhausted me mentally. Twinges of lust assaulted me daily, sadness, elation...all coinciding perfectly with the people who passed outside. Tonight though, my thoughts had been all my own, until the disruption that this unexpected visitor had caused. The rain which had been falling for the most part of the evening had kept people off the road, and the late hour that it was now meant that very few humans were coming near me. I had revelled in the rare quietness, and now I was annoyed. Outside, I could hear an engine idling, roaring like an ancient lion, and I noticed the way that the room brightened infinitesimally; lit by the headlights which were currently shining outside our drive. _"My drive" _I corrected, mentally lambasting myself. There was no us anymore, only me. There was only me and this house.

Again, the pain ripped through my chest, burning my withered self from the inside out. Grief, unmistakable in all its bittersweet glory, and all my own. This was the hardest of the emotions I felt on a daily basis. Anger I could deal with. Wecome even. It was so easy to be angry at my family. Angry at Carlisle and Esme and the unspoken love that they shared. Angry at the passion that Rose and Emmett ignited in each other. Angry at the fact that I was not seen as worthy enough to share myself with another so intimately, as the rest of my brethren did so freely. Instead, I was doomed to a life of shadows, alone, learning only what all-consuming love felt like from the private thoughts of those around me. There was only so much torture one could take, and when my family had decided to relocate all those decades ago, I had opted to stay behind. It had almost broke Esme's heart, and Carlisle's too. I had wanted to be truly alone, continuing my heartache without hearing all around me how wonderful what I was missing out on was. The worry I heard on a daily basis in Esme's mind was becoming too much. I had been seventeen when I was turned, and Esme fretted daily that I had been too young, that I was not capable of romantic love. I knew I was capable; it just hadn't been ignited yet. So I had decided to exile myself without it, and forego familial love as well. And here I was now, still without mate and now without family, not living, merely existing.

The engine outside continued to drone, and I crept towards the window, wanting to see to who it belonged. Probably the local children again, getting carried away with games of Truth or Dare. The house in which I resided had become infamous within the neighbourhood. The common belief was that it was haunted. I heard it everyday in the thoughts of passers-by, and it pleased me no end. The status of a haunted house afforded me privacy. People were reluctant to come within what they perceived to be a safe distance of the front door, terrified of the spirits which they believed to lurk inside. The thought made me smile. How naive these humans were, how stupid to think that they could protect themselves from the real monster which stalked these rooms. If I decided to lapse from my self-imposed _diet_, then there was nothing on this planet which could protect them. There were always the few brave souls who attempted to invade my prison though, and these were dealt with accordingly. I smirked again, remembering the last child who had graced this place. He definitely fell into the category of stupid, however. Brave was not a word that I would ever use to describe him. His sobs had been comical, the pleas that ran through his head infantile. He liked to think of himself as a man, yet had reverted straight back to a youngster at the sight of me. _"Mike Newton" _I thought. That had been his name. Well, judging by the speed that he had fled the property that night, Mike Newton's path would never cross with mine again.

I glanced out the window and my eyes were drawn at once to cause of the roaring which was currently filling my head, causing my fingers to twitch in annoyance. It was a truck, ancient and red, with spots of rust peppering it's colossal frame. A red Chevy. I had driven one like it in the 1950s, when it was modern and shiny. This one was decrepit, yet it caused a twinge in my chest. It was old and uncared for. Like this house. They were quite the partners. Over the roar of the engine, I could hear so much more. The rain hitting the roof of the house, the wind whooshing through the trees around me, and the gasps coming from the human in the car. They were crying, the air leaving their lungs in spurts, while they struggled to inhale. A sniffle confirmed my suspicions, and I strained my ears to hear what was upsetting them. I prepared myself for the barrage of thoughts to fill my head, attacking my own, but nothing came. _Confusion_. I was confused, for the first time in nearly a century, and it didn't sit well. Since I had opened my eyes to this new life, I had been the owner of all the things that were to be expected for a vampire; unrivalled eyesight, super speed, the ability to pick up on scents no animal could. Yet I also had more. My _gift, _the ability to know what everyone around me was thinking, meant that I had never experienced confusion myself. I heard what was going through their head, and understood what their thoughts drove them to do. I had neve. Yet now I was. And it was so _frustrating! _I breathed deeply, allowing the scents I was surrounded with to assault my senses instead. There were the familiar ones; the smell of the timber floors, dust, the freshness of the rain. Then there was more. The sharp smell of petrol coming from the truck outside, the smell of salt water from newly fallen tears, and then _it. Her._Forit had to be a her, the aroma was so feminine. Freesia and gladiola and cotton, and something else I couldn't put my finger on. Beautiful. At once, the familiar burn began in my throat, and I swallowed the venom which flooded my mouth, wincing at the pain it caused. It was liquid sliding down my desiccated throat, but it was not the liquid I wanted. I wanted blood. More specifically, I wanted her blood. I wanted to press my lips to her throat, to feel my teeth slice through her delicate skin, to gorge myself on the scarlet river that would flow from her veins as her life waned in my hands...I shook my head. I was not that monster. Carlisle had made sure I was not. I had hunted last night, and while the mountain lion had sated my thirst at the time, the pungent blood from the animal was no match for the way that this liquid was sure to taste. However, the animal I had consumed last night was now allowing me to try and find a way around this longing, and I was thankful for it.

Again, I tried to listen for her thoughts, intrigued at what this luscious human being was upset about. Nothing. I had her scent, and tried to use it to pinpoint her thinking, yet I remained blank. I could not hear her. I could hear her quite sobs, her gasps, the creaking of her seat beneath her. I could see her outline, slight and short, long hair shining deep auburn in the moonlight. If I didn't breathe, didn't allow her scent to assail me, it was almost like being human. _Almost._

And then she moved, and I heard her keys jangle in her hand, the rattle as they turned in the ignition. She was going. An unexplained flash of misery ran through me. I didn't know her, I didn't know what she looked like, who she was, and I didn't want her to leave. To leave me alone again. Instantaneously, I began to plan. I could follow her. Track her. See what she looked like, where she lived. Watch her with her friends, see her with those she loved. Get to know her from afar, a one-sided relationship. I felt my muscles tense, getting ready to run when she left. I was deciding on the best route through the shadows when the truck began to move. And my breath caught in my throat, venom again beginning to wet my tongue as her scent whirled around me. She was driving towards the house, as quickly as the beast would allow her. She veered to the side, out of my sight. I growled in frustration and flashed through the house, passing the huge staircase that took up the entrance hall, and came to a rest in the living room, looking out the window. Her truck came to a stop under the canopy of trees to the side of the house, hidden from view of the road, and she killed the engine. My forehead creased in confusion; was she planning on coming in? My question was immediately answered as the driver door opened and she jumped out. And she giggled. _Giggled. _A high, tinkling, girlish sound, quite unlike anything I had heard before. What had she to giggle about, standing so close to a monster like me, unwittingly putting herself in danger? But I could control myself now, I had to. I wanted to.

She stayed facing her car, obviously checking if it was hidden enough from view. Satisfied, she turned around, and everything around me fell away. Suddenly, it wasn't gravity holding me to the earth anymore; it was her. She was _it. _Her hair was dark brown, hanging in loose waves around her face, coming to a rest on her chest. I forced myself to look away from the ends of those auburn striped waves, as thoughts of where they would be touching were she to shed her sweatshirt filled my head. Her sweatshirt was blue, and I was lost in the contrast between it's deep colour and the creamy expanse of her chest and neck. The very same neck I had imagined sinking my teeth into. I could imagine her blood dripping down that creaminess, see it cutting through the whiteness like red wine through cotton. I could see it, but I did not want it. One look was all it took for me decide. While her aroma fanned the flames in my throat, her appearance fanned the flames of something else altogether. I wanted her blood, that much was for sure, but I wanted her body more. And her mind. I wanted all of her to be _mine. _"Mine" I thought, as my eyes rose to her face. It was pale in the moonlight, and her lips were set in a pout. They were full and cushiony, and my mind wandered to what they would feel like against my unyielding ones. Her eyes were chocolate coloured and soft, ringed with red from her crying. No tears were falling now though. Relief tore though me. I did not want her to cry. I wanted her to giggle again. I wanted to be the one to make her giggle. I wanted her.

She moved slowly towards the house, and I frowned again. For all of her beauty, she was not graceful. But this did not annoy me. I watched as her jean clad legs moved, her feet picking the best path up the front steps. If I were with her, she wouldn't need to worry about falling. I could protect her. Again, she moved from my sight range, and I ran to see her. I stood to the side of the front door, in the shadows, and looked out through the panes of glass which stood beside the door. She stilled, and for an instant I wondered if she had seen me. No, that was impossible, she couldn't have. I groaned in frustration. How I wished I could read her thoughts, that I could see what was making her pause. To know what had brought her here in the first place. She took a deep breath, her chest rising as she inhaled, and raised a tiny hand toward the handle. She was doing it much too slowly, I wanted her inside _now. _Unconsciously, my own hand snapped out in front of me, turning the handle and throwing the door open. Her scent hit me like a battering ram as it swung open, and I flung myself backwards into the living room. Hiding from her. Like a child. I watched with all seeing eyes as she forced herself forwards, rejoicing as she entered my lair and closed the door behind her. _Mine._

**Well, that's him so far!...next chapter will be an EPOV as well, although I'm sure you've figured that out already! If you have the time, please review. They're like early Christmas presents. And if you want something to read while you're waiting for the next chapter, skip on over to Fridays at Noon by troublefollows1017. You won't be disappointed!**

***hugs***


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: There are no words. Sorry. Short chapter, but more to come. I'd promise, but those don't mean much, do they? **

**As always, Stephenie Meyer owns everything. **

That girl. She angered me. Maddened me. Infuriated me. Yet, as I watched her curl her body into an even tighter ball in my bed, moaning as she did so, I felt more. She did more to me than that. She interested me. Intrigued me. Fascinated me. I wanted to know more about her. I watched her eyelids flicker as she slept, wondering what she was dreaming about. Human dreams were my favourite part of the..._gift_...I had. While my ability to read minds plagued me every day of my existence; making me privy to things that I had never wanted to know, when it came to dreams, I loved it. Sleep is the thing I missed more than any other facet of my mortal life, more than warmth, or food or the ability to enjoy sunlight in the company of others. Sleep. I sighed. Much as I denied it to my family, I had often spent nights poised outside of strangers windows, watching their dreams inside my own head. Impossible situations, joy, ecstacy, pain, fear, grief...the entire compendium of human emotion expressed in one dream. Deepest desires revealed. And as her eyelids continued to flicker, and she continued to experience the contents of her dreams, I wished more than anything that I could hear her, that she could reveal her deepest desires to me.

I shook my head, rocking slightly in the chair that sat in the corner of the room, cast in shadows. I smirked. In the shadows, where I belonged. That's where I had run to the night she had first come. I thought of that night, only a week before. I felt like years. The truck that had so angered me on the silent evening now stood proudly in my driveway, a symbol of something I couldn't even begin to comprehend. As the monster inside me had fought to free itself from the decades old cage I had trapped it in, the girl had explored the rooms that I had called home. And never had the word 'home' applied to it more than when she took her first hesitant steps around the dilapidated space. Of course I followed her, intoxicated by her scent and crazy with bloodlust. It took every ounce of my self control not to spin her around, to sink my teeth in that creamy neck and drain every ounce of the liquid that gave her life. So insane was I with the internal battle I was waging, I failed to notice the most mind-boggling thing that had happened to me in the many, many years since I had awoken to this new life. The silence in my head remained. It wasn't full of teenage ramblings. I had no explanation for the puffiness of her eyes or the scent of salt water that tainted that floral fragrance. My thoughts were still just that, _mine._

_Mine. _That word is so entwined with the girl now, it is almost impossible to separate them. She is mine. She was the moment she walked in that door, and she will be no matter how many times she walks out it. _Mine. _Mine.

But while she might be mine, would she ever know it? I was not used to being shut out from someone's private thoughts, and being denied that access to the inner workings of her mind was putting me at a disadvantage. Perhaps if I could hear her, I would be satisfied with this one-sided relationship, but I couldn't hear her, and after a week sitting near her like a pervert, I still knew no more about her than the first night. I had found myself hatching plans, following her, watching her during the day, and in my most daring day dreams, _talking to her..._

Another moan wakened me from my reverie, low and feminine in her throat. That moan; the things it did to me...I felt the now familiar tightening in my trousers. Seven nights she had stayed here, and seven nights I had fought to keep this side of myself under control. I could fight no more. Certainly her scent was past believable, and to taste her blood would be a kind of heaven, but there was more to her than that. My thirst was easy to control when compared with the different kind of thirst that I was now experiencing. The thirst for her body. I wanted to feel her silky soft skin under my hand, to run my fingers over every part of her body. I wanted to breathe her scent in directly, to see if she tasted the way that she smelled; like fresh linen and hyacinths. Taste. How I wanted to taste her, to gorge myself on her, to lick her neck, and the pale stomach that I had caught glimpses of, to run my tongue over her warmth. Over _where_ it was warmest. My muscles tensed, poised to try, and I fought them, remaining where I was. Until that infuriating crease appeared between her eyebrows again, and I was beside her in an instant, over her. I inclined my head slightly, my lips were so close. I revelled in her scent, her breath coating my face, as I brushed my mouth ever so slightly over that crease. And that's when she stirred.

Her beautiful brown eyes were stunned, gazing up at me sleepily. And then she did something which stunned me. 'You' she murmured, flinging the comforter back, a silent invitation which I was powerless to deny. And so, as the battles I was becoming so used to raged on inside me, I climbed into warm sheets, and wrapped stone cold arms around my own personal angel.

**Reviews make me giggle like a little fan-girl, and secret smile during the day...x**


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